Mercedes Lackey - Anthology (28 page)

 
          
Servants
lit torches in the feast hall, as well as hanging lamps, and the shadows that
had begun to creep into the room were pushed back by the warm light. The Prince
looked around casually, but did not see the King. That in itself was not odd.
The boy was known to come late and leave early from the feasts held in the
governor's palace. At any other time, Gonten would have dismissed the lateness
of the King's arrival, but on this night in particular . . .

 
          
Lord
Hvandi approached the Prince's place and bowed slightly. Gonten returned the
nod, glanced out the windows and noted it was nearly the hour of sunset, the time
the priest had chosen for his trip to the island to claim his prize.

 
          
"Walk
with me to the barge," Lord Hvandi said. "I'll be leaving
momentarily."

 
          
Though
Gonten sensed the order behind the invitation, he nodded and shoved back his
chair. At that moment, there was a stir at the wide doorway to the feast hall,
and the young King entered. Dressed simply as usual, he still seemed more
subdued than the norm. He walked slowly toward the Prince as if in some dream,
his cloak drawn close though the air was warm.

 
          
The
Prince heard his guards shift positions behind his chair. He sensed something
strange here—something he could not put a finger on. His guards had noted it
also, though no one else in the room, including the priest, appeared aware of
anything odd.

 
          
"Prince,"
the young King said, nodding po-aly. "A fair banquet you have
tonight." "It is," Gonten allowed. His gut tightened ightly and
he glanced sidelong at the priest, at Hvandi's attention was focused out the
window toward the island in the middle of the arkening lake.

 
          
"And
for such an occasion," the King said in a curiously uninflected tone,
stepping closer, "I have brought you a gift."

 
          
What
happened next took place nearly too quickly for the eye to follow. Before the
Prince could set himself, the boy-king drew a dagger from beneath his cloak and
sprang at Gonten, his youthful face untouched by any emotion at all.

 
          
The
hall erupted into chaos. Tripping over his chair, the Prince fell backward, and
felt cold fire burn along his arm as the dagger barely missed his chest. Lord
Hvandi cursed, lifted a hand, and a streak of red fire lanced toward the King.
From his vantage point on the floor, his guards standing above him with drawn
swords, the Prince watched the young King falter, drop the dagger, and slump
slowly to the ground without uttering so much as a groan.

 
          
Silence
fell like a leaden weight on the room, then exploded into a hubbub of voices.
Prince Gonten, helped to his feet by his guards, stared down at the boy-king,
still too startled by what had happened to think. As the shock wore off, he
snatched up a napkin from the table and dabbed at the wound in his arm.

 
          
"You're
not injured badly?" the governor asked, his voice trembling. "O gods!

 
          
To
think of it! To think of it! What possessed the King to—
"

 
          
"Whatever
it was, it's gone," Gonten said, only now feeling the pain that followed
his wounding. "Thanks to Lord Hvandi, I live."

 
          
The
priest stood by the slumped body of the young King, his face bewildered.

 
          
"I
aimed to kill, Prince," he said to Gonten, "yet the boy's
alive."

 
          
Gonten
brushed aside the priest's puzzlement. "
All the
better to make an example of him later," he growled, holding out a hand.
One of the servants extended a goblet of wine which he snatched and downed in
only a few gulps. He tossed the goblet aside and it rang in the silence as it
bounced on the floor.

 
          
He
felt his face harden into a mask. "Guards, take this young man to his
chambers so we can—" He glanced up at the priest, and smiled coldly.
"No, a better idea yet.
Lord Hvandi, I will accompany
you to the island for your bride. And, to make the trip more entertaining, the
boy will come with us."

 
          
Yslinda
grew aware of the sun setting without the need to look. She knelt before the
statue of Savanya, her pulse beating at her throat in an uneven rhythm.
Now.
It must be now. She must make her choice. Should she
rise and go to the clock, to wait like some sacrifice for the Lord Hvandi to
take, or should she refuse to bow to his demands? What would be the outcome of
either choice?

 
          
Her
mind raced wildly ahead, filled with the

 
          
mifications
of both choices.
If this, then
that.
She felt overwhelmed by the mere fact that she could choose at
all.

 
          
She
lifted her eyes to the statue, a dim white now in the fading light. Still the
goddess kept her silence. Still she refused to give a sign, or to answer the
repeated prayers her priestess had offered.

 
          
Or,
Yslinda wondered, had the goddess answered in some language that she was
ill-equipped to hear even after all her years of service?

 
          
A
pang of fear swept through her heart, and she doubled over in her kneeling
position, her head touching the ground. O Lady of Wisdom, Mother of Delad, what
must I do? What answer can I give this priest when he conies to our island? I'm
afraid, Mother, but not so much for
myself
as for what
will happen to the kingdom. I have no priestess-in-training. I am the only link
you have with this world. And I know what the priest can do to that link, to my
powers.

 
          
Please,
Lady, please! Fount of Wisdom, grant me the knowledge to know what to do!

 
          
Of
a sudden, the hair on the back of her neck stiffened, and she felt the closure
of another place and time on that in which she and her world existed.

 
          
She
raised her head and looked up at the statue. Far from growing dimmer in the
gathering dusk, the statue began to glow with a steady, strengthening light. A
faint buzz and the distant sound of tiny bells filled Yslin-da's ears, and the
air seemed charged much as it does before lightning strikes from a storm.

 
          
Child,
a voice said, and she trembled with joy at the words, knowing it was the
goddess herself who spoke. Have you so little faith in me that you think I
cannot shield those I love?

 
          
"No,
Lady- I am only mortal, and I fear."

 
          
Then
fear no more, child, the voice continued. Rise and take your place between the
two trees closest.

 
          
Yslinda
did as she was instructed, feeling detached from her body as if she watched
another perform the motions. Once between the two trees, she stood silent,
waiting.

 
          
The
priest comes, the goddess said, along with the Prince and your King.

 
          
"Lady?
The King?
What is he—
"

 
          
Later, child.
For the moment, all you need to know is that
he has played his part in this thing. Now, trust in me and do not be afraid of
what follows next.

 
          
Yslinda
stood motionless, her eyes fixed fast on the gleaming statue. A strange feeling
rose from her feet, one of rootedness, of connection with the earth. Higher and
higher the sensation spread, and, suddenly, a cocoon of safety wrapped all
around, and she existed in a place where she could see but could not be seen.

 
          
And
now, the goddess whispered in a voice like the rushing of wings, let us show
these foreigners that there are other powers in the world than those they own.

 
          
Prince
Gonten was the first to step from the royal barge. He heard Lord Hvandi
disembark text, then the scuffling sounds of his warriors is they set the
unresponsive King on the wooden dock. The Prince gestured, and ten guardsmen,
swords drawn and shields at the ready, preceded him from the shore toward the
priestess' home. The remaining nine and their captain, followed at Gonten's
back.

 
          
His
arm still burned from the knife wound he had taken, but, bound now and swathed
with healing herbs, his injury was more of a nuisance than a hindrance. He
glanced sidelong at the pliant King who still walked as if in some dream.
Something isn't right here, he thought. Hvandi never misses what he aims at,
and he swore he struck to kill. What is it that protected this boy from
Hvandi's power?

 
          
There
was a subtle stirring in the air, as if a wind had sprung up from across the
water, but when he looked, he saw the lake lying glassy and calm, some vast
mirror that would soon reflect the light of the stars. Set on edge by the
oddness of the evening, Gonten reached out to touch Hvandi's shoulder.

 
          
"You
walk into this goddess' realm now, Priest," he said quietly, "and
Keti has dropped below the horizon. Is your power sufficient to withstand the
marshaling of Savanya's power?"

 
          
Lord
Hvandi turned his head and it was all that Gonten could do to keep from
gasping. The priest's dark eyes were full of fire now, a fire that was
presently banked but could and would spring to blinding flames if called upon.

 
          
The
Prince lowered his gaze, knowing his silence -poke more than words.

 
          
Hvandi's
thin smile acknowledged Gonten's unease. "You," he said, shaking the
young King's shoulder. "Do you know where your priestess might be at this
hour?"

 
          
The
King remained silent. Only his golden eyes registered any evidence he had heard
something other than his inner voices.

 
          
The
guard captain, followed by half his men, emerged from the house and shook his
head.

 
          
"The
priestess isn't here," Gonten said, stating the obvious and hating
himself
for having done so.

 
          
"So
it seems," returned Hvandi, openly enjoying the Prince's discomfort.
"Send your warriors out to search for her. She can't have gone far."

 
          
Gonten
nodded and called forward the captain of his guard. "You and nine of your
men split into pairs and scour the island from its farthest side to this shore.
It's not large, so it shouldn't take you long. We'll wait here for your
return."

 
          
"And,"
Hvandi said, "do not, I repeat, do not enter the grove of the goddess.

 
          
To
do so now might imperil your lives."

 
          
The
guard captain saluted, gave his orders, and disappeared into the gathering
darkness vith his men. Once more, the Prince sensed a vind that was not a wind
blow across the water, md he shivered through the night was far from chill.

 
          
Time
seemed to crawl by as Gonten, Hvandi, and the young King waited by the doorway
to the priestess' house. The remaining guards sensed the Prince's unease; their
hands- never strayed far from their sword hilts, and he caught one of them licking
his lips nervously.

 
          
He
wished he could give in to his own nerves, but a leader of men never let his
subordinates see anything but confidence.

 
          
The
evening had deepened to darkness by the time the captain and his men
reappeared. Gonten had ordered torches lit and, from the expression the guard
captain wore as he stepped into the flickering light, the Prince knew he and
his men had found nothing.

 
          
"So,"
Hvandi
said,
his voice so cold that it caused an
involuntary shiver to skitter down Gonten's spine. "The battle lines are
drawn." He reached out and lifted the King's chin in his hands and stared
for a long time into the withdrawn, golden eyes. "You will lead us, then,
my lord," he said in a mocking voice. "Surely you, better than any of
us, know the way to the goddess' grove."